Worthless
by xxdeath.by.chocolatexx
Summary: Most people write suicide notes, addressed to their family. They write these notes to explain themselves. I’m writing this for the same reason. But I’m writing a story, and it’s addressed to the world.
1. Chapter 1

Most people write suicide notes, addressed to their family.

They write these notes to explain themselves.

I'm writing this for the same reason.

But I'm writing a story, and it's addressed to the world.

I'm sitting here on the cold floor, holding a blade.

The coldness of the floor reflects the world, all of which is cold, emotionless, heartless.

Before I pull the blade down my arm, I'll write this.

The world deserves to know what it made me do.

Worthless.

That is what they told me I was.

Worthless. I probably am, considering that nobody is going to burst through the door, and make me put this knife down.

You could probably turn this into a twisted love story if you wanted to.

How I loved the pureness in those grey eyes of his.

How time after time he pushed me away.

But if only you knew that the love that I felt for him was returned.

He did love me.

He spat out the words three weeks ago, but that's not why I'm here.

Romance is what is worthless.

I wasted half my life chasing after something that I had the whole time.

Nobody needs that, nobody needs to waste their time.

There's much better things you could be doing.

This isn't my sappy love story, it's his.

He is the one that created the drama.

True, he was the one that "played it cool".

He was the one that was too cool to look twice at me.

But he loved me, and I believe that.

Even now, I believe that.

It wasn't him that caused me to do this.

Well, maybe he was a factor.

I decided it was pointless to try to be someone in this harsh world, because everyone is out to get you.

Everyone exists just to push everyone else down.

My outlook is bleak, I know I'm pessimistic.

But don't try to deny that how ever many years, we will all end up like me.

Dead.

I was dead a long time ago.

Long before I hit the ground, as they say.

But now I'm at rock bottom.

And just the thought that I'm still alive is not enough to keep me going.

I heard someone say that people who commit suicide usually change their mind halfway.

But it's too late.

I'm not going to change my mind.

I heard someone say that depression is always curable.

Yeah, I'm depressed.

But I'm definetely not curable.

What I have is not a disease.

It's the edge of a cliff, your hand clutching desperately at the rocks.

The merciless stone ripping through the skin on your palm.

I'm not sick.

The scars on my arm are not my medicine.

They keep me alive, but they are not a cure.

Because every time the cold blade touches my skin, I feel something.

The burning sensation, tingling.

Making me feel like I have some amount of worth.

Making me feel what I felt when I looked into those grey eyes of his.

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rapunzel.in.black


	2. Chapter 2

"Where are you going? We have at least a ton of homework…"

"I have to…take a shower"

This was my excuse every time I went into the bathroom to find the stained blade I had hidden.

This had gone on for ages, and it wasn't about to stop.

I used to think I'd be happy if only he loved me like I loved him.

But I know now that I was wrong.

It doesn't take love to make me happy, I could be happy without it.

One of the common misconceptions people have about depression.

You are _not_ sad all the time.

In fact, it's easy for us to look happy.

That's because we don't actually spend all our time thinking depressing thoughts.

But alone in the night, when loneliness creeps around you, whispering it's sorrow, what more can you do?

What else can you feel but sadness?

Because for me, it's not nights when I am alone.

It is all the time, every day, every minute.

Every second I am alive, no matter how many people surround me.

Inside, I am still by myself, and empty.

Even after his confession of undying love for me, it felt too easy.

I knew I was still alone, no matter how he loved me.

Because his love didn't matter any more.

They call it the downward spiral.

But I don't like that name.

I'm not spiraling down, I am just there.

I am at the bottom, there's no up or down.

They called me worthless.

Worthless, they said.

But now I realize it wasn't me that was worthless, it was my life.

Me being alive was worthless, nobody would be affected by whether I was alive or dead.

You might be reading this, and thinking, what a self-satisfied bitch.

She didn't even have a good reason.

I haven't gotten to my reason yet.

But let me say now, I am anything but self-satisfied.

I am not satisfied with myself, and I never will be, because no matter what other people think of me, nothing will make me good enough for myself.

There was someone in my life who defined self-satisfied.

He was the epitome of excellence, with his grey eyes that hundreds of girls yearned for, wishing that theirs would be the eyes his looked into.

He knew he was gorgeous, and he made sure we knew it too.

But I'm not complaining that he was such a show-off.

He had every reason to show off, because to me, he was perfection.

It started that day when I got on the train in 5th year.

Funny, I had never thought of him that way until then, even though I had known him for 4 years.

Suddenly I found I couldn't stop looking at the ease with which his hair fell across his face, the long eyelashes that framed his eyes.

And his eyes. Possibly the most perfect object God could ever have created.

Such a color, that clear grey, almost transparent, yet still they held your gaze.

And staring into his eyes, it was the first time I didn't feel alone.

Perhaps that is why I fell in love with him in the first place.

Because he made me feel like there was something still worth living for.

Just looking for him in the Great Hall every morning, and finding the truly gorgeous face amidst hundreds.

That was what I looked forward to each day.

And when the whispers surrounded me at night, I imagined him by my side, looking into my eyes, with his arms wrapped around me.

Protecting me from the cruelty of the night.

For a while, I stopped giving birth to the scars along my arm.

Because there was no need for help to be complete, I already felt I was.

Sirius, the brightest star in the sky.

His name was fitting, for two reasons.

He _was_ the brightest star in the sky.

But more importantly, although he laughed wholeheartedly, and achieved the casual elegance for which we all try, there was a graveness that lined his face.

This was one of the things that drew me to him.

The fact that inside, he was hurting, just like me.

It made me wonder if he had scars down his arm too, that never completely went away.

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rapunzel.in.black


	3. Chapter 3

_It made me wonder if he had scars down his arm too, that never went away._

Little did I know that I would soon find out exactly what was behind those eyes of his.

Luckily I had soon befriended one Lily Evans, who happened to be in the same group as the subject of my interest.

I met him every day, but I never could have imagined what I found later that same week.

We were paired together in Potions, my least favorite subject, seeing as most people were required to roll up their sleeves to chop ingredients.

I had avoided it until that day, and asked my partner to do the chopping work.

This worked only because it meant I had to make the potions, which most were happy to comply with.

However, the day I was paired with Sirius Black was the day that changed everything for me.

Everything started out normally, we read the directions on the board, and read them again, and read them again.

Potions was a precise subject, there was nothing you could afford to miss.

I was actually thrilled to be working with him, being in such close proximity made me breathless.

The one thing I was glad about was that my dark skin did not turn red. I was actually physically incapable of blushing, something that most envied.

Sometimes I wished I had pale skin, it would help a lot with the image I was trying to portray in the world.

My hair was already black, which made it impossible to dye more black, and my skin was dark.

This made what usually looked different look natural for me.

However, I made up for this by wearing black clothes, double piercing my ears, wearing at least a ton of eyeliner, and black fingernails.

The only reason I wanted this image for myself was because I wanted to be left alone.

I wasn't someone who thought it looked remarkably cool or anything like that, but most people stayed out of your way when you dressed like that.

They were actually intimidated.

We looked at each other, me and Sirius. Black eyes staring into grey, until finally he pulled away and broke the comfortable silence.

"You want to do the chopping? I'll make the potion."

I was horrified, this had never happened before.

I was the one who made the potion!

"No, I can make the potion. It's fine."

Inside I was panicking, this might be harder than I thought.

"No seriously, I'll make the potion. Chopping's easy, don't worry."

He was waving his arms in the air demonstrating while he said this, which was distracting me.

I grabbed his arm to stop it, and suddenly he winced.

I gasped, my suspicions had been right.

I stared at him, and he looked at everything but my eyes.

Only someone who has known cutting can _really _tell if someone has been doing it.

I could tell, of course.

We finished the potions class in silence, he did the chopping with his sleeves remaining rolled down.

I didn't see him for a week after that.

I don't think he actually even came to class.

He had done exactly what I had been tempted to do my entire life.

He had crawled into oblivion, and I didn't think he was coming back, or at least he wouldn't unless I talked to him.

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**A/N **this is my first author's note for this fic. huzzah! Ok seriously, back to what I was gonna say. So I know this fic is more like a rant, which it actually is. Since fanfiction is anonymous, im not afraid to admit that the character in this story is actually me talking, this is pretty much my thoughts, other than the being in love with Sirius thing. I'll let you guys contemplate who is the Sirius in _my_ life…Although Sirius is hot…in my imagination at least. I really do get pissed off when people make assumptions about depressed people or cutters. So everything I said in the second chapter was true, about depressed people being able to be happy, etc

Oh, and to everyone who has ever thought or said the word "wannabe" in their life, I have an angry quote to throw at you…the best part of this is that I actually did say this…

"everyone calls me a wannabe, but what's wrong with wanting to be?" – rapunzel.in.black

Wow that was a long author's note

Now back writing the actual story…

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rapunzel.in.black


	4. Chapter 4

It wasn't easy, coaching myself to go talk to Sirius alone.

I had never talked to only him before.

Besides, the subject wasn't exactly something I wanted to discuss either.

But I had to do it.

Without Sirius around to distract me, I fell back to my old habits, and once again the stained blade had left its hiding place.

I had planned how to talk to him with Lily, who obviously knew about my "crush".

I didn't tell her what I wanted to talk to him about. That was our business.

I found in his room, huddled in a corner.

It was obvious he had been crying, but crying was my best friend, why shouldn't it be his?

Looking at the salt left on his cheeks, I knew exactly what he had been doing for the last four days.

Does anybody know better than me what it is like to sit in a corner and cry?

Does anybody know better than me what it is like when half of me feels like an idiot for doing whatever I are doing, but I can't stop doing it?

Does anybody _truly know_ what it feels like when the other half feels like an idiot for feeling like an idiot?

What about all the times I scare the shit out of myself, because this time it's for real.

What about all the times the sting on my arm has been worse than usual, and I can practically feel the blood draining out of me?

What about when you don't stop bleeding?

What about when you can feel the life leaving you, but why are you still crying?

To feel the pain means you're still alive.

What if that's exactly what you don't want to be?

Is there any reason for feeling scared if you don't want to be alive?

Why be scared about killing yourself?

Because I know I'm screwed up, that's why.

And there's still a part of me that is hoping that there will be more chances, and I won't have to feel this way anymore.

I can live happily like all the other people I see around me, people who actually smile genuinely.

But the rest of me is hoping there is nothing after I die.

If there was more, where would the end be?

I want some kind of finality, I pray that there is a point past return.

And ripping myself apart every day like this, in my mind.

That's what makes me need that blade I hide every day.

Like ripping myself physically makes me more real, like it saves me from something worse.

When I kill myself, I hope it works.

I think nothing is worse than living after an attempt at suicide.

Or in other words, a failed attempt.

Failed.

Failure.

What is all of our worst fear? Failure.

It is living hell, failure, with the people around you not trusting you.

With you not trusting yourself, because as much as you pretend to be getting better, you aren't.

You still wish you had died.

And you would give everything to be sitting up in heaven right now, looking down and being thankful you ended it, because you're seeing the hell everyone is going through.

So don't even think of telling me that life is beautiful.

I don't care about beauty, because all I see of life is how ugly it is, how…unnecessary.

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**A/N **Wow, that was a really emotional chapter to write. It was basically like, oh, here is everything I am thinking and feeling right now. Let me put it down on paper.  
anyways, hope you enjoyed it

rapunzel.in.black


	5. Chapter 5

I'll never forget the conversation I had with Sirius that day.

My memory fails as I try to remember exact words, but the look on his face is forever imprinted in my mind.

I made my way over to him and slid down the wall to where he was sitting.

Before I opened my mouth, I took a deep breath and realized that this was it.

From this moment, I would no longer be a secret, I would no longer belong only to myself.

I asked him, straight on, whether he cut.

It didn't go as I had planned it in my head, to be a sensitive and powerful question.

I just asked him. Just like that.

He opened his eyes and looked up at me slowly.

We just looked at each other for what seemed like an age.

I allowed him to stare into my eyes, searching for whatever he wanted to find.

Finally, he began to shake his head, but seemed to change his mind mid-shake, and nodded.

"Why are you telling me?" Smooth. That was exactly what I said. I asked him why he told me.

I was just taken aback because I didn't expect it to be so easy to get him to admit it.

"I guess…because you're the first person that's asked."

Well, that was obvious.

He supposedly had everything, who would suspect he was hurting so much inside?

Then he asked me the one question I had been dreading.

The one question I didn't want to answer.

The one question I had expected but held hope that it wouldn't be asked.

"Do you?"

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**A/N **yeah, short chapter I know. But when I was writing it, that just seemed like the perfect cliff, kind of cliché powerful, but still powerful.

You all know that all I want for Christmas is some reviews…!

rapunzel.in.black


	6. Chapter 6

I could feel myself snapping with pressure after our discussion.

In summary, I had tried to deny what I was doing, but guilt always sets in, and I ended up with a full confession.

He was back in classes, but I avoided him as much as possible.

Every time we passed each other in the halls, he would glance at me quickly, then immediately look away.

It was awkward, the knowledge that someone would never look at me in that casual way again.

Yet, as time went on, I found us getting closer instead of farther apart.

He would find innocent reasons such as homework to talk to me, find me in the library and start talking.

I wasn't going to complain, this was exactly what I wanted.

But the blade made many appearances over that period, I couldn't stop myself.

It seemed like everything got to me, the smallest passing comment someone made, even a bit of criticism.

I was weak, I'm not afraid to admit it.

Over those few months, I was at my weakest, except for perhaps the night he confessed he loved me.

It's interesting, the games your mind plays with you.

It's hard to control your own head, to control what you think.

Which is even more ironic, considering it's your mind, and you are controlling what you can't control.

Really, it's enough to drive anybody absolutely insane.

It pretty much drove me insane.

Sirius got a letter, which he wasted no time in showing me.

It was from his family.

He admitted that his family was full of Dark wizards, he admitted that his brother was a Death Eater.

He admitted to me that he had run away from home.

It made me feel horrible about how I was feeling.

I felt guilty that he was going through so much, that he had a reason for doing what he did, whereas I was just weak.

I just couldn't handle the small burden I had been given.

Which I tore myself apart over more than anything else.

I couldn't get over the fact that I didn't deserve to be feeling this bad, yet that just made me feel worse.

It was really a vicious circle.

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**A/N **ok guys, I'm off to India, so I decided to update right before I left. There won't be any new chapters for a while, because I probably won't be able to write while I'm there.

Thank you very much to all my reviewers for your comments and concern. I'm sorry if I made it seem like this is actually my suicide note and I'm going to hang myself as soon as this story is done. Totally not true, what I meant by that A/N was that all this ranting is stuff that has been going through my head, yes, I have been diagnosed as depressed, and yes, I cut. But I definitely am not going to kill myself any time soon…we can all worry about that later

rapunzel.in.black


	7. Chapter 7

Guilt was slowly eating away at my insides.

Somehow I had managed to convince myself that if it hadn't been for this, he never would have talked to me.

So all the closeness that had formed between us, that special bond was not meant to exist. Back on the downward spiral.

Once you are on this spiral, it's impossible to get off of it, because gravity, of course, pulls downward.

So all these pessimistic thoughts were just jolts of reality, little waves of gravity pulling me back from my dream world, back to real life, back down to earth.

An endless merry-go-round, but without the merry.

So I ended up feeling stupid for ever having believed we could be more than friends.

However, he slowly changed my mind about this.

He started initiating conversations, planning ways to meet me more times than necessary.

He would formulate ways to study together, and I would agree, only to find that he already knew all the material.

My life hit a high point when, in fifth year, we were both chosen as prefects, I from Ravenclaw, and he from Gryffindor.

Therefore, we were assigned to patrol together.

We had many meaningful conversations during our long walks down corridors.

In fact, we were so absorbed in our conversations that I doubt we would have noticed if anything _had_ gone wrong, things we were supposed to be keeping an eye out for.

After all, we were patrols.

We talked mostly about our similarities and differences.

I was curious as to why he cut, and he was curious as to why I did.

He told me he was tired of himself, tired of putting on a show every day, of letting people think he was happy.

And he, like me, was afraid to kill himself, so he just went halfway.

Compromises.

Life is compromise. Life is pain.

Broken promises and shattered hopes are common, and those who "live in the moment" are living in a dream world.

Those who always look at the bright side are telling themselves lies.

For every bright side, there is a dark side. Yin and yang.

Another thing we discussed constantly was the blackness of life, the darkness of living.

The torture of knowing that living is a constant uphill climb, yet the only thing that meets you when you finally reach the top is death.

Ironic, that it is some kind of reward, some achievement.

That the ending of some sort of test that is given to everyone is death, and that is somehow a good thing.

And yet we are given the power to end the trial ourselves, so why not?

Because we have some kind of human nature to just grin and bear it, pretend to be stronger than we actually are.

We are weak, cowardly, if we cannot deal with what has been given to us.

Yet these are societies standards, we have trapped ourselves with this thinking.

So let them think of me as a coward, if they wish to.

Let them laugh after my eyes close about how weak I was.

Weak, they call me.

But it is I, not they, that has the strength to deal with the pain that comes from running a knife repeatedly down my arm.

It is I how is finally summoning up the courage to end my suffering.

It is I who is strong enough not to care myself.

It is I who is strong enough to challenge life's routine.

It is I who is strong enough to convince myself that this is strength.

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**A/N **well, there you go, after a looong time. sorry about that, i'm having internet difficulties. PLEASE REVIEW, be good to me!

rapunzel.in.black


	8. Chapter 8

When there is nothing left of you, what can you do but break?

Nothingness is familiar, and darkness is your friend.

The absence of hope becomes something you know all too well, so why do I still feel so alone?

Loneliness creeps into my sanctuary, with white walls staring me in the face, unafraid to confront a creature so broken.

Stretched to breaking point, until the simple weave of skin can no longer hold you together, and snap, strand by strand.

Each time I slice into my arm it takes me to the brink of deliverance, and brings me back into this hell of a world.

Yet I keep doing it, just so I can feel so close, so damn close I can't even stand it anymore.

What is pulling me back from going over the edge?

What is stopping me from ending it?

I can't answer that question, I doubt there is anyone who can.

So I am stopping my story, until I can trust myself enough to continue.

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So what I am trying to say by this chapter is that this story is on hiatus (officially), because I don't feel comfortable continuing with it at the moment. But it is definetely something I will come back to. It isn't quite that I have writer's block, it's more like, expressing myself with this story is becoming really emotional. So I'm sorry to anyone who liked this story, and I really appreciate all the encouraging reviews, not just for this story, but for me as well. Thank you guys so much.

rapunzel.in.black


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